


Soutenu, Arabesque, Attitude

by sordidhumor



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ballet, Drabble Collection, Fluff, M/M, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-20
Updated: 2011-04-20
Packaged: 2017-10-29 21:39:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sordidhumor/pseuds/sordidhumor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A romantic Drarry drabble concerning--of all things--a drunken Draco, indulgent Harry, and the ballet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soutenu, Arabesque, Attitude

**Author's Note:**

  * For [secksetera](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=secksetera).



> **Prompt from secksetera:** Something with ultraDracoish!Draco, and a somewhat resigned but otherwise entertained Harry. Also ballet.

 

 

Who would have guessed, in a million years, that Draco Malfoy loved the ballet? And his favorite was _Sleeping Beauty_. It had been a _very_ lucky guess for their first real date.

The blond sauntered up the steps of Grimmauld Place, swaying oh-so-slightly and humming. That's how you knew he was happy—he hummed. Harry had learned these little details over the last few months between sleepovers and impromptu fucks in Ministry loos. Draco was a sweet and attentive lover; mewling, affectionate and a post-coital cuddler with very warm, gentle hands—who knew? He adored champagne, chocolates, the theater and surprise flowers delivered to his desk by a dozen trained doves. Yes, that one had been bloody expensive to arrange but Harry didn't rightly care. It was worth it for Draco's smile, that sashay and lilting melody spilling from his pressed pink lips.

There had been champers at intermission and Draco was probably a bit tipsy as he fished Harry's keys from his front pocket and fumbled to unlock the front door. He knew which pocket Harry kept his keys in, which drawer held the lube and condoms, where the coffee pot always hid in the kitchen. They stumbled into the place in darkness, Harry's lips at the nape of a pale, slender neck, keys tossed willy-nilly to the floor. Harry fell against the wall, knees knocking and ankles crossed.

“ _Soutenu_ ,” Draco muttered with a lopsided smile, tugging Harry forward and spinning him around so he landed with his back to the blond's chest.

“I take it you enjoyed the ballet,” Harry teased.

Draco ignored him, still humming. “ _Arabesque_ ,” he said next, trying to pull and cajole Harry into the ultra-feminine ballet pose. The blond bent, seizing a brawny calf to hoist his lover's leg in the air. Harry just laughed and let it happen—normally he was the one moving Draco around like an over-sized rag-doll after sex. This was sort of nice, to be attended to, jostled and played with.

“ _Attitude_.”

Harry had no idea what that meant; so when Draco didn't move to show him, he simply flipped his hair out of his eyes and stuck his nose in the air—eyes closed at the thought of how ridiculous he looked. He'd never been happier that he lived alone and there was no one but Draco to see him like this.

“No, not like that,” Draco snorted, laughing. “You bend at the knee, here,” and he adjusted Harry's airborne leg, wrapping it back around his slender, suit-clad waist. He bent, whispering in Harry's ear, a promise of wet lips and teeth. “Merlin, you're such a bloody queer.”

“Says the bloke who knows the overture to _Sleeping Beauty_ ,” Harry shot back, grinning. “Ruddy shirt lifter.”

Draco groaned. “Kiss me, you poof.”

And Harry was bent back in the faggiest pose that ever was, kissed senseless. Maybe next week they'd see _Coppélia_.

 

 

 

 _~ fin ~_


End file.
